Four square Jane
He was still shaky, however, when he recounted the happenings.
“They haven’t passed out of the hotel, that I’ll swear,” said the
detective. “We’re watching every entrance, including the staff
entrance. How did it occur?”
Peter shook his head.
“I went like a lamb to the slaughter,” he said, smiling grimly. “It
was the promise of a confession, and my infernal curiosity which made
me stay--to smoke a doped cigarette, too!” He thought a moment. “I
don’t suppose they depended entirely on the cigarette, though,” he
said. “And maybe it would have been a little more unpleasant for me,
if I hadn’t smoked.”
An hour after he was well enough to conduct personally a search of the
hotel premises. From cellar to roof he went, followed by two
assistants, and it was not until he was actually on the roof that he
discovered any clue. It was a small piece of beadwork against the wall
which the girl had climbed, and which had been torn off in her
exertions. They passed along the neck, and along the sloping roof till
they came to the skylight, and this Peter forced.
He found, upon descending, that he was in the premises of Messrs.
Backham and Boyd, ladies’ outfitters. The floor below was a large
sewing-room, filled with girls who were working at their machines,
until the unexpected apparition of a pale and grimy man brought an end
to their labours. Neither the foreman nor the forewoman had seen
anybody come in, and as it was necessary to pass through the room to
reach a floor lower down, this seemed to prove conclusively to Dawes
that the fugitives had not made use of this method to escape.
“The only people who have been in the upstairs room,” exclaimed the
foreman, “are two of the warehousemen, who went up about two minutes
ago, to bring down some bales.”
“Two men?” said Peter quickly. “Who were they?”
But, though he pushed his inquiries to the lower and more influential
regions of the shop, he could not discover the two porters. A lot of
new men had been recently engaged, said the manager, and it was
impossible to say who had been upstairs and who had not.
The door porter at the wholesale entrance, however, had seen the two
porters come out, carrying their somewhat awkwardly-shaped bundles on
their shoulders.
“Were they heavy?” asked Peter.
“Very,” said the door-keeper. “They put them on a cart, and didn’t
come back.”
Now if there was one thing more certain than another in Peter’s mind,
it was that Four Square Jane did not depend entirely upon the
assistance she received from her husband. Peter recalled the fact that
there had once been two spurious detectives who had called on Lord
Claythorpe having the girl in custody. They were probably two old
hands at the criminal game, enlisted by the ingenious Mr. Steele. This
proved to be the case, as Peter was to find later. And either Four
Square Jane or he might have planted these two men in an adjoining
warehouse with the object of rendering just that kind of assistance,
which, in fact, they did render.
Peter reached the streets again, baffled and angry. Then he remembered
that in Lord Claythorpe’s desk was a certain bond to bearer for five
hundred thousand dollars. Four Square Jane would not leave England
until she had secured this; and, as the thought occurred to him, he
hailed a taxi, and drove at top speed to the dead man’s house.
Already the news of the tragedy which had overcome the Claythorpe’s
household had reached the domestics: and the gloomy butler who
admitted him greeted him with a scowl as though he were responsible
for the death of his master.
“You can’t go into the study, sir,” he said, with a certain
satisfaction, “it has been locked and sealed.”
“By whom?” asked Peter.
“By an official of the Court, sir,” said the man.
Peter went to the study door, and examined the two big red seals.
There is something about the seal of the Royal Courts of Justice which
impresses even an experienced officer of the law. To break that seal
without authority involves the most uncomfortable consequences, and
Peter hesitated.
“Has anybody else been here?” he asked.
“Only Miss Wilberforce, sir,” said the man.
“Miss Wilberforce?” almost yelled Peter. “When did she come?”
“About the same time as the officer who sealed the door,” said the
butler. “In fact, she was in the study when he arrived. He ordered her
out pretty roughly, too, sir,” said the butler with relish, as though
finding in Miss Wilberforce’s discomfiture some compensation for the
tragedy which had overtaken his employer. “She sent me upstairs to get
an umbrella she had left when she was here last, and when I came down
she was gone. The officer grumbled something terribly.”
Peter went to the telephone and rang up Scotland Yard, but they had
heard nothing of the sealing of the house and suggested that he should
seek out the Chancery officials to discover who had made the order and
under what circumstances. Only those who have attempted to disturb the
routine of the Court of Chancery will appreciate the unhappy hours
which Peter spent that day, wandering from master to master, in a vain
attempt to secure news or information.
He went back to the house at half-past four that evening, determined
to brave whatever terror the Court of Chancery might impose, and again
he was met by the butler on the doorstep, but this time a butler
bursting with news.
“I’m very glad you’ve come, sir. I’ve got such a lot to tell you.
About half-an-hour after you’d gone, sir, I heard a ripping and
tearing in the study, and I went to the door and listened. I couldn’t
understand what was going on, so I shouted out: ‘Who’s there?’ And who
do you think replied?”
Peter’s heart had sunk at the butler’s words.
“I know,” he said. “It was Four Square--it was Miss Joyce
Wilberforce.”
“So it was, sir,” said the butler in surprise. “How did you know?”
“I guessed,” said Peter shortly.
“It appeared she’d been locked in quite by accident by the officer of
the Court,” the butler went on, “and she was having a look through his
lordship’s desk to find some letters she’d left behind.”
“Of course, sir, everybody knows that Lord Claythorpe’s desk is one of
the most wonderful in the world. It’s full of secret drawers, and I
remember Miss Joyce saying once that if his lordship wanted to hide
anything it would take a month to find it.”
Peter groaned.
“They wanted time--of course, they wanted time!”
What a fool he had been all through! There was no need for the butler
to tell him the rest of the story, because he guessed it. But the man
went on.
“After a bit,” he said, “I heard the key turn in the lock, and out
came Miss Joyce, looking as pleased as Punch. But you should have seen
the state of that desk!”
“So she broke the seals, did she?” said Peter, with gentle irony.
“Oh, yes, she broke the seals, and she broke the desk, too,” said the
butler impressively. “And when she came out, she was carrying a big
square sheet of paper in her hand--a printed-on paper, like a bank
note, sir.”
“I know,” said Peter. “It was a bond.”
“Ah. I think it might have been,” said the butler hazily. “At any
rate, that’s what she had. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘it took a lot of
finding.’ ‘Miss,’ said I, ‘you oughtn’t to take anything from his
lordship’s study until the law----’ ‘Blow the law,’ said she. Them was
her very words--blow the law, sir.”
“She’s blown it, all right,” said Peter, and left the house. His last
hope was to block all the ports, and in this way prevent their leaving
the country. However, he had no great hopes of succeeding in his
attempts to hold the volatile lady whose escapades had given him so
many sleepless nights.
* * * * *
Two months later, Peter Dawes received a letter bearing a South
American postmark. It was from Joyce Steele.
“You don’t know how sorry I am that we had to give you so much
trouble,” it ran; “and really, the whole thing was ridiculous, because
all the time I was breaking the law to secure that which was my own.
It is true that I am Four Square Jane. It is equally true that I am
Four Square Jane no longer, and that henceforth my life will be
blameless! And really, dear Mr. Dawes, you did much better than any of
the other detectives who were put on my track. I am here with my
husband, and the two friends who very kindly assisted us with our many
exploits are also in South America, but at a long distance from us.
They are very nice people, but I am afraid they have criminal minds,
and nothing appals me more than the criminal mind. No doubt there is
much that has happened that has puzzled you, and made you wonder why
this, or that, or the other happened. Why, for example, did I consent
to go to church with that impossible person, Francis Claythorpe?
Partly, dear friend, because I was already married, and it did not
worry me a bit to add bigamy to my other crimes. And partly because I
made ample preparations for such a contingency, and knew that marriage
was impossible. I had hoped, too, that Lord Claythorpe would give me a
wedding present of some value, which hope was doomed to
disappointment. But I did get a lot of quite valuable presents from
his many friends, and these both Jamieson and I most deeply
appreciate. Jamieson was the doctor who saw me at Lewinstein’s by the
way. He has been my right-hand man, and my dearest confederate.
Perhaps, Mr. Dawes, you will meet us again in London, when we are
tired of South America. And perhaps when you meet us you will not
arrest us, because you will have taken a more charitable view of our
behaviour, and perhaps you will have induced those in authority to
share your view. I am tremendously happy--would you be kind enough to
tell my mother that? I do not think it will cheer her up, because she
is not that kind.
“I first got my idea of playing Four Square Jane from hearing a
servant we once employed--a Jane Briglow--discussing the heroic
adventures of some fictional personage in whom she was interested. But
it was a mistake to call me ‘Jane.’ The ‘J’ stands for Joyce. When you
have time for a holiday, won’t you come over and see us? We should
love to entertain you.”
There was a P.S. to the letter which brought a wry smile to the
detective’s face.
“P.S. Perhaps you had better bring your own cigarettes.”
[The End]
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ childlike/child-like,
dinner-party/dinner party, Ritz-Carlton/Ritz Carlton, etc.) have
been preserved.
Alterations to the text:
Add ToC.
Punctuation fixes: some missing periods and commas, and adjust
some quotation mark pairings/nestings.
[Chapter I]
Change “She left the room as _noislessly_ as she had entered” to
_noiselessly_.
[Chapter II]
“applause for the genius and _presience_ of the little man” to
_prescience_.
[Chapter III]
“Mr. _Tressler_ took his loss very calmly until the newspapers” to
_Tresser_.
[Chapter V]
“she sticks to it; and maybe _its_ something else” to _it’s_.
“But I’m afraid _its_ no use. This poor fellow has been shot” to
_it’s_.
[Chapter VII]
(“Is that so?” he said _increduously_.) to _incredulously_.
[Chapter VIII]
“he unbolted the door, _unbottoned_ the coat, and took out” to
_unbuttoned_.
[Chapter IX]
“_Its_ full of secret drawers, and I remember Miss Joyce saying” to
_It’s_.
[End of text]